


Between the Wars

by golden_redhead



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Battle, Bleeding, Bruises, Dark Magic, Illusions, M/M, Magic Wounds, Oumota Week 2019, Swords, mage!Kokichi, soldier!Kaito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: And just like that, the illusion shatters, the reality unfolding before Kaito’s eyes all at once, leaving him momentarily disoriented, blinking as if he’s been blinded.“You’re hurt,” Kaito says stupidly when the last traces of the illusion are finally gone and he can only stare in shock, his sword landing on the floor with a sharp ringing sound that resonates in the empty space between them.---AKA. Kaito and Kokichi don't know each other well but it doesn't stop Kaito from realizing he's in pain.





	Between the Wars

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it for Oumota Week 2019 that I organized. It was for the prompt Magic AU and originally I posted it as a part of the ficlet collection. I decided to post it separately because I actually really like it and I think that way more people might read it. 
> 
> This is a War AU so there are some descriptions of wounds and mentions of death (rather vague but still). If this is the kind of content that makes you uncomfortable or might trigger you I really suggest that you don't read it.

Kaito can still hear the rush of blood in his ears, the excitement mingling with adrenaline coursing through his veins, everything becoming sharper and louder, more intense. He lives for it, lives for the fervent intensity of the battle, for the emotions running high and the stakes getting serious, lives for the unpredictability of it all as all he can do is push forward, no matter what life throws at him. It’s a practised dance, all the steps memorized and imprinted in his memory, instincts taking hold of his body and leading him closer to his goal.

There’s beauty in all of that, in the clinking of swords, the varicolored spells flashing left and right, hitting blindly, not caring whether it’s the enemy or ally. 

And then comes the peace of the battle won, the thrill of pride and elation still burning inside as they take a moment to mourn the fallen ones and Kaito can send a thankful prayer — for still being here, for not laying among the disregarded bodies — to whoever watches over him from above. It never takes long, the memory of those who didn’t make it fading at the back of people’s minds as they rush to dine and wine, enjoying the rare moment of rest and wash the regrets down with a generous dose of alcohol only to rise along with the dawn the next day, preparing for another battle starting as soon as the hangover wears off. 

It’s not a way to live and Kaito knows that better than anyone else. He also knows better than anyone else that there is no other way, that the path to the stars that he keeps chasing is soaked with blood and tears. 

He was born into this war and he won’t rest until he sees the end of it. 

After the latest battle, his comrades rushed to prepare for the victorious feast, eager to celebrate the reclaiming of the land they had lost years back, successfully depriving them of one of the most desireable look-out spots at the time when they needed it most. Today’s victory bought them a huge advantage, maybe the one that would spin this whole war in their favor and put an end to this endless string of senseless suffering and bloodshed. He doesn't allow himself to believe in it for too long, knows better than to let himself be tempted by the empty promises.

“What are you doing here?”

Kaito whirls around, the sword he’s been cleaning precisely for the past few minutes almost slipping out of his still slippery with blood and sweat hand. He finds himself face to face with a pair of sharp lilac eyes, staring at him with just a hint of annoyance, eyebrows pulled in a frown. 

Kokichi Ouma’s always been somewhat of an enigma, obnoxious and loathsome, but sharp as an arrow and fast as a bullet in the heat of the battle, casting illusions left and right, saving their asses more often than Kaito would have liked. They never got along well, he and Kokichi, but he’s been a valuable ally, his unique brand of magic an essential element of many of their strategies. 

“Uh,” says Kaito unintelligibly, surprised by his sudden appearance. By now everyone should have retracted to their tents, getting whatever rest they could before the feast began. “I was just leaving.”

Kokichi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently. He’s out of his armor and not for the first time Kaito’s stricken by just how small he is, his frail form unfitting the gruesome existence of a fighter even if his skills more than make up for it.

“Then leave already,“ Kokichi’s voice is harsh and biting and normally it would have been enough to get the message across, enough to make him bid Kokichi farewell and leave without looking back. But there is something in his voice he hasn’t heard before, some desperate undertone that makes Kaito stop in his tracks, tense and alert, all of his instincts screaming at him all at once with sudden panic-stricken urgency.

“Hey, Ouma… You sure everything’s okay?” he finds himself asking before his brain has a chance to catch up with his mouth, worry loud and clear in his voice despite his best efforts to mask it. 

“Just peachy,” comes a curt, snappy response, clearly meant to get Kaito to finally give it up and hurry his stubborn ass in the direction of the exit, leaving him to his own devices. 

However, if the years of on the battlefield taught Kaito something it’s to trust his instincts, have faith in the skills he’s been practicing since the day he had been big enough to clumsily lift the sword above his head, beaming proudly at the mentor overlooking his training. 

There's something wrong, something completely and utterly wrong, even though he can’t name it at first, simply a hunch, a feeling rather than anything solid or tangible. He goes rigid, his senses heightened, like a wild animal sensing the danger in the air and trying to determine when or where to expect the enemy to strike. At first glance, everything looks like it should, the way it always does, but he knows better than take things at face value where Kokichi is concerned. And if he focuses real hard he can see it, the way Ouma’s small form flickers slightly, like a glitch, barely noticeable at first but definitely there once he focuses on it. On its own, it’s not a proof of anything, just a manifestation of Kokichi using his illusions, something as natural as breathing to a mage of his kind, something done almost unconsciously, effortlessly. But it’s then that Kaito becomes aware of something new, something that makes worry curl and boil in his gut. There’s the violet gleam at the edges of his vision as if he's looking through a filter, the whole world subtly distorted, a sign of an illusion meant to camouflage something bigger, something _bad_. They mages weren’t allowed to cast illusions on such a scale outside of the battlefield, it was considered a crime. For Kokichi to take such a risk… 

“Ouma,” Kaito hisses warningly, taking a step closer, fingers tightening around the handle of his sword. “What the hell is going on?”

Kokichi forces an amused smirk on his lips, unfaltering. Deflecting.“Whatever do you mean?”

A low growl escapes Kaito's lips as he steps even closer, shoulders tense and eyes sharp. “Cut the shit! You tell me what is going on or I’m gonna report you.” 

Kokichi winces at the volume of his voice and watches warily as Kaito raises his sword, pointing it at him in a voiceless threat. They both know there’s no real intent behind the gesture but it gets the message across loud and clear. 

Kaito watches as Kokichi fights some internal battle, weighing his options, eyes falling to the ground and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Gone is his usual composure, what little left of it slowly evaporating. 

“Fine,” he spats through the clenched teeth eventually, turning to look Kaito in the eyes, unhappy but fierce. 

And just like that, the illusion shatters, the reality unfolding before Kaito’s eyes all at once, leaving him momentarily disoriented, blinking as if he’s been blinded. 

Kokichi’s no longer standing before him, his usual sarcastic smirk gone, replaced with a pained grimace that looks almost out of place on his childlike face, his small from curled next to the wall, shivering and bleeding. 

It immediately becomes apparent why he gave up so quickly, lifting the illusion nearly as soon as Kaito became aware of its existence.

“You’re hurt,” Kaito says stupidly when the last traces of the illusion are finally gone and he can only stare in shock, his sword landing on the floor with a sharp ringing sound that resonates in the empty space between them.

He can’t blame Kokichi for rolling his eyes at his more than obvious statement but the faint irritation it provokes quickly turns into concern when his pale face contronts in pain and a low involuntary moan slips past his lips. 

“Shit, Ouma,” he hurries to his side, sinking to his knees next to the small mage, huddled against the wall. Kaito gnaws at his lower lip worriedly, unsure where to start. He lets his hands hover uselessly, unused to feeling this hopeless, this hesitant. 

There’s blood dribbling down Kokichi’s forehead until it splits on his nose, forming two separate paths on both sides, one of them leading through the entire length of his face. Kaito winces in sympathy when he delicately brushes away the long strands of hair to take a better look, thinking about how it’s going to leave a nasty scar, a thin pale line running above his eyebrows. Kokichi’s arms are scattered with ugly bruises that stand out on his skin like an ugly mosaic and judging by its awkward angle, he must have broken his wrist. He draws in shallow, careful breaths, his jaw clenched a bit too tightly for it to be natural and leaves Kaito wondering worriedly about the state of his ribs. 

It's not even the worst of it, though. 

Kaito’s seen all kinds of injuries in his argurably short life, the small ones that fade into nothingness in a matter of days and the ones that scar for life, a grim reminder of every time he could feel the breath of death ghosting over his skin. 

But none of it prepares Kaito for the sight of the black, tinted with the darkest shade of purple tendrils of smoke oozing from the deep wound in Kokichi’s side, curling around his narrow shoulders as if alive and reaching higher, crawling up the white column of his neck until they brush against his jaw, determined to continue their journey. 

Kaito feels like all air has been knocked out of his lungs, grasping desperately at the thin shirt covering Kokichi’s shivering form, the material tearing under his fingers. 

“When... H-how did it get so bad? How did this happen?” he chokes out, finally finding his voice, shocked and raspy with disbelief. 

Kokichi cocks his head to the side, a strained smile wobbling on his lips. 

“Aww, is someone worried about the little ol—”

His words blend into a loud hiss when Kaito presses his finger against the patch of skin next to the wound, lilac eyes swimming with pain, unfocused. 

“Shit,” Kaito blinks up at him, eyes wide. “ Shit. This is some dark fucking magic. We need to get you to a medic, _now. _”

There’s some kind of pressing urgency in his voice, a frantic plea as he anxiously tries to decide how to get Kokichi to the medic without aggravating his wounds further by accident. 

Kokichi blinks blearily through the pain, no longer trying to hide behind the fake bravado, a fact that worried Kaito more than anything else. Kaito squeezes his small hand, a flimsy attempt at sympathy, shuddering slightly at the touch of his clammy, cold fingers.

“I… I’ll go get help, okay?” he says anxiously. “You stay here and… Uh. Just stay here and wait for me, alright?”

“Sure,” Kokichi mumbles, his head resting against the wall, the smoke of dark magic crawling higher, brushing against his cheeks. “Gotta stay here. Easy peasy.”

Kaito squeezes his hand one last time, swallowing hard.

“I’ll be back soon.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually kinda anxious about posting it, heh. It was a lot of fun to write and I'm even... kinda proud of it? Idk. 
> 
> As always, kudos & bookmarks are very appreciated! And if you enjoyed it I'd love to hear your thoughts on it :3 Thank you all for reading!


End file.
